Usually, one of the best parts of my workday doesn't happen at work at all. I'm about to make myself sound like, and feel like, that 1st grader who when you ask him, "Hey Charlie, what's your favorite subject in school?" and the little scamp replies "Recess!" or "Lunch!" Well, that's me. I like lunch the best-est.
Don't get me wrong, I feel like I'm learning something new every day here at the clinic, and everyone is great, from MA's to PA's to the doctor. It's nice to get to work with 2 Pacific grads.... smart folk they are. Anyway, that said.... I like lunch. See, I'm in Hawaii, but I work long days, (like the rest of you) and I don't get much time during the week to actually BE in Hawaii... but at lunch.... OHHHHHHHH at lunch.... I get to go to the beach, grab a seat, and enjoy my lunch. I start to relax, I watch the waves crash in along the white sand, (and I relax a bit more.) I watch the sailboats slowly pass along the horizon.... (getting more comfortable...) I watch surfers ride the waves as they track to the shore... (could almost fall asleep.) I watch the girls walk by in little bikinis... (am I in Heaven?) I watch a homeless man walk towards me and sit down across the table from me, and begin to me stare me down.... and I rel... wait, WHAT?!?!
I snap out of my dream-like state, with a "huh"... thinking "buddy! you're blocking my view." He says something about getting out of the sun, and I reply with something stupid like, "I hear that."
Oh no... I've opened the door to conversation.
Now, please, it's not that he's homeless that I don't want to talk to him, if he were rich, I'd be just as upset. It's that he's ruining my favorite subject; lunch. I think the only guy that I would've enjoyed talking to then, (that I don't know and love already) would have been Vince Vaughn, or Chris Farley (if he were still alive) or Will Ferrell... but if you're not them, keep on walking. now if you're a girl.... that's a different story.
So, this guy, whose name I still don't know, begins to stare at me some more, and talk to me, slightly incoherently. And, well, I'm not happy..... but I'm not going to ignore him.... I may be rude and frustrated in my mind, (and on this "blog") but I don't act that way towards him.
I'm a pushover.
So I start talking to him....
"How long have you been here?" says the guy.
"About 2 weeks.... 5 more to go. I'm working at the Waikiki Health Center for school."
He looks puzzled.
"Like a medical internship," I say.
"Ohhhhhhhhh." he sighs.
There is a glint of understanding and a flash of something that tells me I've opened up a can of worms
Nuts! this guy aint leaving.
He proceeds to tell me all about his medical problems, and the problems he faces in getting care. (which is sad, and a comment on our medical system. But much of it too can be attributed to this guy himself.) I find out he's a Navy Veteran, 60 years old, and moved from Chicago 3 years ago without a penny, or a plan. He doesn't talk to his family, he thinks that his brothers don't care about him at all. He doesn't want to go the VA because he thinks they don't know anything, he doesn't come to the Waikiki Health Center because he said that they turned him away (which they don't do there.)
He starts showing me the scabs on his hand... the scars on his ribs and so on and so forth.
Meanwhile, I'm plotting my escape....
He rambles on and on...... and on.
I look at my watch.
I miss my quiet lunch... i miss the waves, the waves, the girls. I feel like I'm at work! Is this guy really about to show me this lump on his butt? I'd be HAPPY to see this guy in the clinic, but not at the beach... I'm not sure that this is appropriate, or legal...
I look at my watch again.... YES
"Oh, LOOK at the time..... I've got to go, next patient is in 10 minutes. It was nice talking to you." (Lie.) sorry God, and Mom... But, it was a little white lie. and I WAS terribly polite, and talkative... he'll never know I was frustrated with him. but oh, I was.
So anyhow... i was left wondering two things.....
1.) Was my compassion only limited to the clinic, or was I maybe just having a bad day?
and
2.) Should I take the Thumper approach, "If you can't say anything nice (and in my case, mean it) don't say anything at all."
and the answer is.... I don't know.
all i know is that i missed my quiet, relaxing lunch today.
-pray for my humanity-
cn
3 comments:
We've all been in that boat before, the conflict of conscience, when enjoying our little "selfish pleasures" a hapless intruder robs us of the moment, and causes us further to examine our motives. At least you were kind. Tomorrow is another day.
If this PA thing doesn't work out maybe writing could. You were pretty funny.
I agree. Good story. Maybe your first book could pay back the student loans.
Newguy, I love you and your big heart. Don't be so hard on yourself. If you were a grade A ass hole you would have told him to get the F* off of your lunch table. However, knowing you for several years now I know that you would never be able to do that. Compassion fatigue is a very real thing and you may have been subconsciously protecting yourself in this situation. You will find that your time to decompress is very valuable and unfortunately this precious time was interrupted on that day. I tell my clients that one of the hardest things to do is to simply be nice to yourself - with practice though, it can be accomplished. Miss you and wish you were closer!
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